


leave me paralyzed

by miasmasky



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), M/M, Masturbation, akira’s very bad no good murder kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25463209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miasmasky/pseuds/miasmasky
Summary: “So,” Akechi says, almost conversationally, as if his gloved hand isn’t ghosting over the tip of Akira’s dick, “what do you normally think about when you do this?”
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 20
Kudos: 227





	leave me paralyzed

**Author's Note:**

> nebulously set post-canon this is just pwp thank you and i will be dying soon

“So,” Akechi says, almost conversationally, as if his gloved hand isn’t ghosting over the tip of Akira’s dick, “what do you normally think about when you do this?”

How exactly they winded up here is a mystery. Akira had had the day off, and Akechi was at work, and Morgana was out visiting Haru, and, well. Maybe he should’ve moved to the bedroom, but is it not a man’s right to jerk off on his own couch in his own apartment? Only then Akechi had come home early, somehow completely silently - as if he _knew_ \- and suddenly Akira had found himself pushed up against the corner of the sofa, breathless as Akechi leaned over him, deliciously smug, the cat who’d stolen the cream. 

“Well?” he prompts after Akira doesn’t reply immediately, running a finger up Akira’s length in one torturously slow motion. 

Akira hisses. “You,” he says, because he’s an upstanding, honest young man. 

“Me?” Akechi’s eyebrows raise a little in mock surprise. Because it has to be _mock_ surprise, the bastard, as if he isn’t aware that he’s all Akira ever thinks about. “But you see me every day, Kurusu-kun. Where’s the fun in that?”

His tone is light, baiting, and Akira rises to meet it. “Sometimes,” he begins, voice low and raspy, “I think about you doing - different things. Things you haven’t, or - couldn’t do in reality.”

Akechi’s eyebrow quirk is genuinely inquisitive, this time. “Oh? Pray tell.”

His bare finger - when did he take off his glove? - circles the head of Akira’s cock, coaxingly. “I think about the Metaverse, sometimes,” Akira says, all in a rush. He feels like he’s in a confession booth. “Sae’s Palace, maybe, and what her cognition of you would be like.”

Akechi laughs. “Oh, Niijima-san - I can’t even begin to imagine what her image of me would’ve been.” His mouth crinkles into a smirk. “So? What do you do in these little fantasies? Do you fuck my docile, doe-eyed cognitive self into a casino wall?”

It’s far from being anything new, but hearing Akechi talk so obscenely sends a molten bolt of heat down into Akira’s stomach, every time. “Sometimes,” he breathes, almost like a laugh. “Sometimes I imagine you’re there too - the real you.”

“Oh? Is one not enough for you?”

Akira laughs, half out of embarrassment and half overwhelming arousal, covering his mouth with one of his hands. Akechi is still occasionally touching his dick with agonising slowness, refusing to let Akira touch himself. 

There is a brief pause, and Akechi looks at him. “Well? I’m not going to let you get away with stopping there.”

He is the _worst._ Akechi is enjoying this so much, and that’s so oddly endearing that Akira feels a rush of boldness, saturated in affection. “I suck him off,” he breathes, “while you fuck me. Or maybe - I fuck _him_ , and you just have to sit there and watch.” Akechi’s breath catches, softly, and Akira doesn’t miss it. “I don’t let you join in - even after I’m done.”

“Go on,” Akechi says, and it comes out a bit more breathlessly than before. 

“Occasionally,” Akira begins, “I think about - the two of you both fucking me - both trying to fit in me at once -“

“Jesus,” Akechi breathes, pressing the back of one of his own hands over his mouth. He visibly takes a second to compose himself, and Akira loves watching his smug facade melt down into being obviously turned on too. “You’ve got quite the obscene imagination on you.”

“I think the Metaverse had a lot of wasted opportunities,” Akira grins, and Akechi laughs, leans forward to kiss him. Akira returns it eagerly, his fingers coming up to tangle in Akechi’s hair as he gasps into his mouth. 

“What else,” Akechi murmurs into the kiss, his own hand cupping the side of Akira’s face. “What other depraved fantasies do you have swirling around in your head?”

“You really want to know?”

“All of it,” he says, nipping at Akira’s bottom lip. “I want to hear the worst you’ve got - the most disgusting thoughts you have about me, Akira, tell me -“

The truth stretches taut like a wire in Akira’s mind, and, spurred on by Akechi’s open wanting, the feeling of his clothed hardness grinding against Akira’s own, he breathes, “Sometimes I - I think about you killing me.”

Akechi breaks the kiss, draws back just a little, eyes wide as he stares into Akira’s face. He knows that a few years ago this admission would’ve unravelled them, Akechi instantly shutting down, withdrawing into a tangled labyrinth of guilt and loathing. It’s a testament to how far they’ve come, how much of their messy foundations they’ve parsed and worked through, that instead a slow smile breaks upon Akechi’s face, thin and bordering on smug. “You are an absolute freak,” he tells Akira, sounding almost wondrous. 

“Yeah,” Akira says. 

“I mean, that’s not _news,_ but this is a new level of debauchery,” Akechi continues, trying very hard to sound unaffected, but Akira can see through it. “Go on, then, do regale me with how you get off to the thought of being murdered.”

Akira huffs out another embarrassed laugh, shifts a little. Instinctively his hand moves to grasp his dick - still painfully hard - and Akechi instantly slaps it away. “Not yet,” he reprimands, and Akira lets out a small, annoyed groan. 

“I think the first time I thought about it was - a couple of months after it,” he starts, and Akechi looks like he wants to say something, but Akira doesn’t let him: “I was - obviously I wasn’t _there,_ so - I started thinking about how it happened.”

He half expects Akechi to interject, but he doesn’t, so he continues. “The obvious thought was you shooting me from across the room, which is impersonal, but -“ He shifts a bit, again, distantly aware of how red his face must be. “I thought that in itself was kind of - hot? Which I guess isn’t a normal thought to have,” he laughs, “but I was kind of like, okay, we can go with this. So I did.”

“So you did,” Akechi repeats. His eyes look almost glazed. “What did you think about next?”

“I thought about you getting closer,” Akira says, and some distant, rational, non-horny voice in the back of his brain is screaming _oh my God we are saying this out loud!!_ “I thought about you - pressing the gun to my forehead -“ He squirms, bites his own lip -

“Show me,” Akechi orders suddenly. 

Akira blinks. “What?”

“Touch yourself,” Akechi tells him, “Show me how you got off to this.” 

Akira’s hand instantly flies around his own dick and he throws his head back, gasping at the sweet relief of the sensation. “Goro, I -“

“Keep talking. And don’t you dare come too early.”

That feels like the most gargantuan task in the world; Akira feels like he could come just from Akechi breathing on his dick at this point. Still, he continues, slowly palming himself, toes curling from the pleasure. “The thought of you looking down on me, pressing this gun against my head - God, it was so much,” he confesses, and the words come out in a rush, as if he barely has enough breath to get them out. “I imagined being on my knees, looking up at you -“

Akechi makes a noise, adjusts himself slightly, but doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at Akira, eyes dark and heavy. 

“I thought about sucking you off while you held it against my head,” Akira says, and he has to force himself to slow down, stop himself from coming. He dimly registers movement and realizes that Akechi is jerking himself off to this, too - the thought makes Akira even more turned on, as if that were even possible - “Having to do a good job, knowing that if I didn’t, you were one second away from - pulling the trigger -“

“ _God,_ Akira,” Akechi groans, pulling him forward so that their lips just ghost against each other, a phantom of a kiss. 

“And even if I did do a good job - that you’d do it anyway -“ Akira gasps, and he’s so close, and Akechi buries his face in the crook of his shoulder and bites, just a little too hard, and whispers, “Akira, Akira -“

And that’s it - it’s all too much, and he comes, so hard he feel like he might pass out, spilling all over his hand. Akira flops back against the arm of the couch, feeling like he doesn’t have a functioning bone in his body, and Akechi ends up sprawled over him, panting exhaustedly into the skin of his neck. They lay like that for a few eternal seconds, both struggling to get their breath back, until they slip into a warm, blissed-out silence. 

Eventually, Akechi sits up, looks Akira in the eye. His face is unnervingly blank for a few moments, and for a horrible second Akira is worried he’s thinking something sad, but then he smirks. “You have some debilitating mental issues.”

“Maybe so,” Akira admits. “But you love me for them.”

Akechi makes that face he always does when he’s trying to look impassive, but can’t hide the smile creeping onto his face. Akira absolutely adores him. He rests against his side and Akechi’s fingers come up, almost instinctively, to comb gently through his hair. 

“I wonder if there’s any way we could get the Metaverse back,” he muses, thumbing through his phone. “Think I should give Maruki a message?”

He’s joking, of course, but - “Worth a try,” Akechi mutters, and Akira grins.

**Author's Note:**

> ive never written anything like this before in my life but i believe in being the disgusting change you want to see in the world. so sorry. thank you


End file.
